HARMONY (a Doctor Who Novella)

Chapter 1

The past is but the beginning of a beginning, and all that is and has been is but the twilight of the dawn.-- H.G. Wells, "The Discovery of the Future," 1901

Starlight filled his eyes, the radiance of a billion, billion suns performing their intricate, cosmic dance just for him. He floated free, turning gently, straying further and further into the shimmering reaches of Space and Time, engulfed at last in the splendour of the Medusa Cascade...

Someone spoke his name.

He blinked. The vast expanse of space was gone, replaced by the rotating blur of ceiling fan blades churning a gentle breeze against his skin. Moonlight played at the open window, the towering walnut tree outside casting long shadows across the far wall of the bedroom.

His bedroom. The room he and Rose had shared when this was their home. How long ago that now seemed.

The storm had dissipated, leaving behind the tangy scent of autumn. Gutter tea, he'd heard it called. He rather liked that. Human beings. They still amazed him. Who else in all the galaxy could put a poetic spin on rotting foliage? He had enjoyed more than his share of that aroma, having walked miles in a downpour. It was that or call for help and calling for help still wasn't in his nature.

He'd misplaced the Jeep. Again. And he'd disengaged the GPS. Again. Special Op's at Torchwood's main branch in London claimed it was a security measure, but he couldn't abide being tracked that way, like a tagged animal in the wild. The mutant Time Lord, stalking aliens across what he still fondly referred to as Pete's World. Or simply off on a lark. Granted, the missing GPS complicated things when it was time to close up shop. The Jeep didn't beckon like the Tardis, his Time Ship, and apparently a reliable Chameleon Circuit was standard issue because it blended into its surroundings so well that he never seemed to be able to locate it when he needed it. Surely it would turn up. It always did. Almost always. But Pete Tyler--boss, benefactor, and father-in-law all rolled into one--had seemed decidedly unamused to see him walk through the side gate earlier instead of driving. He was quick to produce the key from his pocket as a sort of peace offering, but Pete only planted his face in both hands and strode away, muttering some of the more colourful expletives in the English language.

Compared to saving the Earth from the threat of the Yugglorrh Transperion, another lost Jeep was of little consequence, but he admitted it was having a negative impact on insurance premiums. Not good. Especially now with the economy in the dustbin. Besides, they still hadn't forgiven him for that unfortunate incident with the zeppelin.

At least this time he hadn't phoned from the Embassy in Czechoslovenia, requesting transport (and diplomatic immunity), though, as he was wont to do, he had wandered off yesterday with scarcely enough money for chips, let alone cab fare from Scotland. Yesterday? No, no, no. That wasn't right at all. It was longer than that. A week, then. Three at most. The seasons had yet to change and no matter how distracted he became he had never missed Christmas.

Could it be helped that he was as drawn to Trouble as Trouble was to him? Raising a ruckus, Jackie Tyler called it. Pete was less delicate than his wife on that matter, but dutifully did any damage control necessitated by his latest exploits. Not that it was intentional. Well, not usually. Well... all right, he admitted to himself, sometimes it was quite deliberate but not without provocation. Mostly. Still, it had been a long hike from Aberdeenshire, even after hitching a lift here and there. Maybe he talked too much. The last lorry driver hadn't even waited for the next lay-by.